Gospel Story Finder

A dear family friend passed away a few years ago. He and his wife enjoyed hiking together in the mountains. One fall afternoon, they hiked several miles up a steep mountainside to a beautiful waterfall. While descending the trail, several hikers making the climb upward asked the question, “Is it worth it?” Our friends’ reply was always in the affirmative. Later, they observed that the effort was worth it only if you enjoyed the fresh air, alpine beauty, exercise, and loving companionship.

Let me give you an example. One evening a few years ago, I was interviewing adults for renewal of their temple recommends. A middle-aged woman came in for her interview. She had been married in the temple and was active in the Church all her life.

I sensed a deep sadness in her soul. As the interview progressed, I received a spiritual impression. I said to her, “Sister, I have the impression that you made a serious mistake when you were a teenager that you haven’t confessed to a priesthood leader. Would you be willing to tell me about it?”

She immediately began to cry. She told me that was true, but she had always felt too embarrassed to confess it to a bishop. As she confessed what she had done, she shared sufficient detail for me to make a determination of her worthiness.

The confession of her sin to a priesthood leader marked the end of her repentance process rather than the beginning. She had unnecessarily carried the burden and sorrow of that sin for more than 30 years.

Because she had completed the final step of repentance, her guilt was swept away. I would occasionally see her after the night of that interview. Her countenance became bright, and she was happy.

I want you to know that I do not remember her name. The Lord can remove such memories from bishops. What I do remember is that through confession to her priesthood leader, a middle-aged woman was relieved of feelings of guilt that she had carried far too many years.

A couple of weeks ago, I met astake Young Women president in California who told me that her 81-year-old mother had recently been called to be a Mia Maid adviser. I was so intrigued I gave her mother a call. When Sister Val Baker’s bishop asked to meet with her, she was looking forward to being called as a librarian or ward historian. When he asked her to serve as a Mia Maid adviser to the Young Women, her reaction was, “Are you sure?”
Her bishop solemnly replied, “Sister Baker, make no mistake; this call is from the Lord.”
She said she had no other answer to that except, “Of course.”
I love the inspiration this bishop felt that the four Mia Maids in his ward have much to learn from the wisdom, experience, and lifelong example of this mature sister. And guess whom Sister Baker will go to when she needs help setting up her Facebook page?

Last year during school I didn’t have the most pleasant experience. I started to feel overwhelmed with all of my schoolwork, and I started to get depressed. I stopped caring, I didn’t go to class, and I didn’t do my homework or use my time wisely to get back on track. I didn’t want to face my problems by admitting that I was struggling.
It was at a youth conference that I finally decided to address my issues. For the first time in months, I was finally able to feel the Spirit again. That was because each morning and night I took the time to be completely honest with both myself and my Father in Heaven about how I was really doing, through personal prayer and scripture study. This helped me to narrow down all the issues in my life that I could change.
Whether it was spending too much time on my phone or binge-watching the latest popular streaming TV series, I identified my biggest distractions and was able to truly focus on what matters most in life. As I continued to truthfully speak with Heavenly Father about my hardships, I felt like my honesty with God and myself gradually helped me develop more integrity. I began to act in faith and put forth the effort to work through my struggles.
I have since been able to better focus my time and efforts on worthy causes, and this has made such a big difference in my life. My struggles with depression and motivation have not ceased, but now I find peace and solace during them as I continue to read my scriptures and pray daily with real intent. I’m starting to see my issues with more of an eternal perspective. I can now say that my weaknesses have started to become strengths (see Ether 12:27).
As I’ve acted fervently upon promptings and stayed honest with myself, my Heavenly Father, and my Savior, I have seen the blessings of integrity manifested greatly in my life.

Robert, a member of the Bukuru Branch in the Kisumu Kenya District, was introduced to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in early 2024, when he met an American man doing humanitarian work in Kenya.
“I was not really expecting that my life would get better,” Robert says. “My parents did not have money; they could not send me to school.” (In Kenya, even public school costs money.)
“But I knew Heavenly Father would help me. I started praying and reading the New Testament. Then I met my sponsor.”
His “sponsor” was a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who blessed Robert’s life in two ways: he helped him obtain his schooling and, more importantly, shared the gospel with him (as did another young man who had recently joined the Church). Robert was baptized about six months later.

Katy, Yolanda, and Marcia sat on the couch, looking through the new Christmas catalog.
“Oh, look at that dollhouse!” Katy exclaimed.
“Santa will never get that thing in his sleigh,” said Yolanda. “It’s too big.”
“Santa can do anything,” insisted Marcia, the youngest.
At the supper table that night, Katy mentioned the dollhouse. Dad and Mom looked at each other. “I think things are going to be a bit different this year,” Dad said. “Santa has some extra kids on his list, so we’re going to ask him for fewer things than usual.”
“But Santa can do anything,” Marcia objected. “Who are these kids, anyway?”
Mom answered with a question: “Have you met the girls who moved into the Jones’s house?”
“The Jones’s house?” Katy exclaimed. “They must really be poor!”
“They are poor, Katy. Santa and our family are going to help them. That’s why there will be fewer presents under our own tree this year.”
There was silence around the table as the three sisters thought this over.
Dad sighed. “I can see that this won’t be easy for you, but we have so much, and your mother and I feel that it’s important to share.”
“Santa will still bring you a few things,” Mother reminded them before adding, “but the best gift that we’ll all get is a wonderful feeling.”
Katy was unconvinced. “You can’t open a feeling on Christmas morning.”
Dad looked disappointed. “If you each share just one of your toys, that’s all we’ll ask.”
“Except that I could use some help with the Christmas cookies,” Mom added. “We’ll put some in a big basket for them.”
“What about us?” Yolanda whined. “Don’t we get any?”
“I think that’s just about enough,” Dad said sternly. “You’ll meet the Smith girls tomorrow at church. We expect you to be polite and show them around.”
The meal ended in gloom and silence.
The next day the three sisters kept looking around the chapel to see if they could spot the Smith girls. “There! On the third row, next to the door,” whispered Yolanda. Her sisters slowly turned around and stared at the two strangers.
“They’re wearing braids,” Katy said. “Nobody wears braids anymore.”
“Hush and turn around,” said Mom. “It’s rude to stare.”
On the way to Primary, Dad introduced the new family. “Girls, this is Sister Smith and Susan and Beverly.”
“Hi,” everyone mumbled.
“Where are you from?” asked Katy.
“From Grafton,” said Susan.
“That’s a long way from here. Why did you move?”
Before Susan could answer, the Primary president poked her head out the door. “Time to get started, girls.”
At lunch the next Saturday Marcia asked, “Why did the Smiths move here?”
“Well,” Mom said slowly, “they lost their father last summer. Sister Smith was able to get a good job with the telephone company, but she had to move here to take it.”
“If she has a good job, how come we have to give up our Christmas to them?” asked Yolanda.
“Because she doesn’t have any money yet,” Mom said. “And you’re not giving up your Christmas—just a few things. Try to remember that these girls have lost their father.”
“I still don’t like it,” said Marcia.
Just then the telephone rang. Dad answered. “Yes,” they heard him say, “I’m sure that they’d like to come.”
“Who was that?” asked Katy.
“It was Sister Smith inviting you to spend the afternoon with her daughters.”
“No way! They didn’t say three words to us at church. Please, Dad!”
Dad was wearing his stubborn look. “Look, girls, I know this is hard. But sometimes we do things just because they’re right.”
Mom helped them into their coats and herded them out the door. It seemed like too short a walk through the fast-falling snow. A soft knock brought Sister Smith to the front door. Her daughters stood silently behind her.
“Come in, girls. We’re happy that you could come over.”
Katy, Yolanda, and Marcia entered the living room. There was no furniture, just a big pile of moving boxes against one wall. They followed Susan and Beverly into the big, old-fashioned kitchen and were greeted with the smell of gingerbread. In the middle of the room was a large oak dining table. On it were candies, bowls of frosting, and a sheet of baked gingerbread.
“Bev and Susan thought it would be fun to make gingerbread houses,” said Sister Smith.
“Wow! All right!” Yolanda exclaimed. “I didn’t think we would—” Katy pinched her before she could say “have any fun.”
“Come on,” said Beverly. “Let’s get started!”
“Yeah,” said Susan. “We do this every year with our friends. We’re glad we have you to share this with.”
The five girls started on the gingerbread houses and were soon laughing at each other because of the frosting on their faces.
Later, while they were waiting for more gingerbread to cool, Katy said, “Let’s go play in your bedroom.”
“We can’t,” said Beverly. “It’s too cold in there. We only go there at bedtime.”
“Oh.”
Beverly jumped up. “I know—let’s make paper chains for our windows! Mom, don’t we have colored paper somewhere?”
Soon the girls were absorbed in their project, scattering bright paper scraps like confetti on the floor.
“Let’s make some for your tree, too,” Yolanda said.
Susan and Beverly exchanged glances. Finally Beverly said, “We might not get a tree this year. They’re pretty expensive.”
The three sisters looked at each other. After a while, Katy said, “I’m tired of making chains. Let’s make something else.”
“I know,” Susan said. “Let’s make foil stars and hang them from the light fixtures.” Soon they were scattering silver foil and cardboard among the bright scraps of paper already on the floor.
Before long, the setting sun appeared through the clouds, filling the room with light. Later, just as the clock on the wall chimed five times, a knock sounded at the kitchen door.
“Look, it’s Dad,” Yolanda said. “What does he have?”
“It’s a tree!” cried Beverly as Sister Smith opened the door.
“A little offering from our family to yours,” said Dad with a grin. “Do you have a big bucket or something else we can put this in?”
“Bev, run to the shed and get that old gray bucket. Brother Harris, how can we ever thank you?”
“Well, we all wanted to do something fun.” He winked at his daughters.
Beverly burst into the kitchen, carrying a large gray bucket. The next few minutes were filled with happy, noisy confusion as everyone tried to help Dad put up the tree. Satisfied at last that it was secure and well watered, he stood up, sniffing appreciatively.
“Mmmm, pine trees and gingerbread—it sure smells like Christmas! Bring out the ornaments, and we’ll finish the job.”
“Well, I’m afraid all I have is a string of lights,” Sister Smith said.
“We have something!” cried the girls. They scampered off and brought back armfuls of paper chains and foil stars.
“Now, that’s the ticket! Sister Smith, you go get those lights. Girls, get that stuff untangled, and we’re in business. Hey, got any gingerbread men?”
As everyone got busy, they filled the old kitchen with laughter. Finally they all stepped back to admire their handiwork.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It was Mom carrying a large casserole dish. “A little something for your dinner,” she said. “My, that’s a fine tree! It looks like you girls have had a busy afternoon.” She set the steaming dish on the counter.
There were tears in Sister Smith’s eyes. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for remembering my family. This is a Christmas we will always remember.”
Katy, Yolanda, and Marcia didn’t know what to say. Mom did. “Thank you for letting us share. We need you too.” She gave Sister Smith a hug. “Come on, girls, let’s go before their dinner gets cold. Ours too.”
As the Harris family walked home, Yolanda turned and looked at the Smith kitchen window. The Christmas tree lights blinked brightly. “Mom, what did you mean when you told Sister Smith that we needed her?”
Mom took Yolanda’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Do you remember how you felt when you went to the Smith’s this afternoon?”
“Yeah—pretty awful.”
“Well, how do you feel now?”
“I feel wonderful. Is that what you meant? I understand now—we needed to give so we could feel good again.”
“And we’re not done yet!” Katy and Marcia chimed in.

William Albiston, son of Joseph and Mary Ann, was born in 1857. Will, as he was known, his wife, Elizabeth, and daughter, Eda, were baptised in Oldham in 1897. The Albistons were members of the Oldham Branch that was meeting, during this time, in a rented hall at the House & Mill Company offices, 127 Union Street.3
According to Will’s descendants, he was converted to the gospel by an Elder Abraham Wilde, who mentioned the Albiston family a few times in his missionary journal:
“20 January 1897. […] We spent the [evening] at Mr Albiston’s who was to [be] baptised the next evening.
“21st January 1897. The weather is still cold therefore we did not get out; in the evening Bro Broadbent baptised twelve persons, [...] Mr Albiston and wife and daughter [...]. They were baptised in the font of the Baptist Chapel in Oldham.” 4
Like so many other members of the Oldham Branch, Will and his family left England for Utah, but Will wanted to be in the British Empire, so the family moved to Alberta, Canada, settling on a homestead in Cardston County. Will farmed there until his death.

Getting up at 4:30 A.M. on Thursday mornings became an ordinary part of Camie Brasher’s week during her high school years. She decided to do baptisms for the dead, usually enlisting two or three friends in her Holladay 14th Ward, Salt Lake Holladay South Stake, to go with her.
The weekly treks to the Salt Lake Temple were soon life changing for Camie. “It was amazing how Thursdays were so much better than other days,” she recalls. “I loved feeling the peace of the temple and felt very close to the people I was baptized for. Now I definitely want to be married there.”

During one conference in Poland in 2010, I met Radu. He was from Romania. We talked briefly, but he soon left on his mission and our paths didn’t cross again until another YSA conference three years later. There we had the time to actually get to know each other a little bit, but I was leaving on my own mission a month later. Radu wished me all the best and said, “Let’s keep in touch.” I didn’t really think he would, but he did. He wrote me letters throughout my mission. There was nothing romantic in his letters, but he became one of my dear friends. And I loved the respect he had for me and for missionary work in general.
When I returned home, Radu and I were both very excited to properly get to know each other—we could finally make it happen after so many years! We picked an affordable place for both of us to meet (which was Belgium at the time) to spend some time together. We talked and talked and talked some more.
We didn’t put any pressure on our relationship. We focused on building a friendship and simply getting to know each other. We always had so much fun together, but we also had very meaningful and profound discussions about the things that matter most. Over the next while, our friendship grew stronger. We Skyped almost daily, and over time we started saying nightly prayers together. We eventually started visiting each other’s country every few months.
After a while, I started feeling anxious because I felt like our friendship was developing into something more. But he was from Romania! I didn’t want to get into a long-distance relationship because a relationship could lead to marriage, which meant one of us would have to move to another country. I didn’t feel ready for that.
One day when I was feeling particularly anxious, Radu reminded me of a simple yet powerful principle. He said, “Let’s pray about our relationship and see how we feel.”
I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought about praying about our relationship earlier. But that was the best advice I received at the time. So I prayed for guidance.
I didn’t expect any specific answer at that moment, but I decided to keep moving forward with getting to know Radu. I hoped Heavenly Father would give me a warning if our relationship wasn’t something I should continue. But over time, the answer I had asked for did come. I had conversations about Radu with my family and friends, and in every conversation I was reassured I was going in the right direction.
Soon I had a funny realization. After having yet another great Skype call with Radu one night, I said to myself, “He really is the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be his friend forever!” That’s when it hit me. Immediately a voice in my head replied to my own comment, “Well, then you need to marry him!” I knew that Heavenly Father was smiling upon my relationship with Radu. I could see that he was my best friend and that we could be happy together.
So I moved to Romania and married Radu. Never in my mind had I thought I would end up in Romania. But we’ve been married for four years now, and we have a wonderful daughter, Amelia.
I know what you’re thinking—I’m just another one of those young single adults who met my “soul mate” at a YSA conference and things worked out effortlessly. But that’s not true. The reason I tell you this story is for you to stop pressuring yourself to find your eternal companion and instead let God guide you.
Did I go to those YSA conferences to find a husband? No.
Did I think that one of the guys I met there would become my husband? Not really.
Instead I took the pressure off finding whom I wanted to marry and I simply went to these conferences to connect with others and build friendships—which was exactly what Radu and I did in the beginning.
The pressure to find our eternal companion as soon as possible can be so real sometimes. But there is no time limit on eternal relationships. There’s no need to stress over it. Life isn’t about getting married, but rather becoming the best version of ourselves and letting God work His plan in our lives. Yes, we should all go out there, show up, meet people, make new friends, and get out of our comfort zones. But we should do so with the thought, “I’m going to have fun and meet some great friends” rather than “I have to keep my eyes open to find ‘the one’ or I’m going to mess up my entire life plan!”
One thing Radu told me when we were engaged was that although he usually felt a bit stressed around girls he liked, he didn’t feel that way with me. He said because of our friendship, he always felt relaxed and like he could always be himself.
So look for good people to surround yourself with and enjoy where you are now. Because honestly, when you stop stressing out and just choose to build friendships and learn to love who and where you are, that’s when life becomes much more enjoyable.
Radu and I aren’t perfect. We weren’t really looking for the “perfect” person—we were just being ourselves. What I’ve observed is that who you truly are and how you live is what is most attractive to others. When you strive to follow Jesus Christ, you will attract others who are doing their best to follow Him as well.
I’ve also learned that as we become better and have full faith that God is in charge, we will invite His hand into our lives—and when we recognize His hand, there is no need to fear for the future. Remember what the Lord taught Nephi: “And I will also be your light in the wilderness; and I will prepare the way before you, if it so be that ye shall keep my commandments; wherefore, inasmuch as ye shall keep my commandments ye shall be led towards the promised land; and ye shall know that it is by me that ye are led” (1 Nephi 17:13).
We weren’t meant to put constant pressure on ourselves for not meeting certain expectations or milestones in our own time frame. Truly, Heavenly Father’s time is different than ours—it’s eternal. He has a plan for us to fulfill every blessing we seek. And when we do our best to trust His plan and find fulfillment in whatever circumstances we find ourselves in, that’s when we will find true happiness. His plan will always be better than the one we have for ourselves.

We were born in Ghana, Africa, and have lived in Tamale for all our lives. We are now a family of four. Abraham is our husband and father, and I, Elizabeth, am his wife, and the mother of our children who are Favor, age 6 and Savior, age 3. We are the Apalekiyas!
We are members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We were both baptized on the same day in November of 2015. We were among the very first few members of the Church here in Tamale. Some refer to us as “member pioneers”. We are proud to be pioneers here in Tamale and to now be “old in the church”.
My husband, Abraham, and myself were born and grew up in a village here in the Northern District of Ghana. We each grew up without strong family ties and Abraham mostly roamed and raised himself in the bush. While on his own, Abraham learned many skills and developed plenty of ways to support himself. He also made many friends who love him and appreciate his kind ways and happy smile. I never had the opportunity of going to school, not even to grade one. When grown up enough, I found myself down in Accra working for a white lady keeping house and cooking; I learned much from her. After a time, I returned to Tamale and that is when I met Abraham. We decided to marry, and we quickly settled down into married life. It was not easy being newly married and living in Tamale, a hard place! After our first year of marriage the Lord blessed us with our first born, our daughter Favor. We felt SOOO favored of the Lord, and so we named her Favor. Three years later, Savior our son, joined the family. Once again, we were very blessed by God and our Savior and so we named our son Savior. We were so thankful to have him after he was delivered cesarean section because of some concern on the part of the doctors. We thank God!
The year 2014 was the year when the missionaries found us and taught us about the Church. We enjoyed learning even though we spoke no English. The Spirit testified to us both that the Church was true!
Our membership in the Church has blessed our lives so much. When we first joined the Church we could not understand, speak, or read English. We would come to church each week and we enjoyed being there, even though we did not understand English. The branch president would invite us into his office after church was over and explain to us the teachings. We were nurtured by the leaders and other Church members.
Soon we were introduced to the Church’s literacy program. The senior missionary couples were our teachers. I especially wanted to learn to read, to write, and to speak English so that I could do God’s work and also teach my family. Through the Gospel Literacy program, we can now understand, speak, read, and write English. I do not know what we would do without the couples who contributed so much to our learning, serving as our teachers, and helping us to develop self-reliance skills. Our couples were Elder and Sister Brinks, Elder and Sister Renfroe, and Elder and Sister Wight. Without these couples we would not have been able to accomplish so much, but with their help and with God’s power, we are better now!
We love serving in our branch where Abraham is the elders quorum president and I am the Relief Society president. I can give lessons now and read from the scriptures.
We love holding family home evenings with our children. We are learning from the Come, Follow Me manual and we also pray together. I read scriptures stories to them from the Book of Mormon and the Bible.
We are so happy that our family is sealed together in the temple. It made my heart happy when I read, on the outside of the temple, those holy words! When I went inside, I thought, “This is a small heaven”. I loved it!
Ministering is a big part of what we do as members. We visit and support our other members. We have many members of our branch now. They are coming!
God has blessed us too much! We are so happy to be members of the Church and as we look back at our lives and how they have changed and been blessed because of our membership in the Church, we are so grateful. Our progress has been small but now we have strong testimonies and we will never leave the Church, not ever! If you ever come to Tamale, we hope that you will visit our branch.

Outside of the airport, a man was waiting with our names and a taxi to take us to the temple where we were going to stay. Before we got there, we stopped by a supermarket to buy some groceries. The following day, my husband received his own endowment, and we did a few more sessions, spending the day at the temple. Then the big day arrived for our family sealing. Everyone there had heard about us and knew what we were there for. On that day we had the temple to ourselves. We got ready, and when we arrived, some missionary couples were there to assist us. When we got to the sealing room, everything was prepared; we were sealed first, and then our two daughters were sealed to us. It was the most wonderful thing, the way that we felt is unexplainable. There was not a dry eye in the room. All the missionaries who were there and the sister who had fed us at the airport was there, and they were all in tears. The Spirit was so strong and was felt by everyone in the room.

Dad made each of us kids feel special. He would look after each of us and talk to us like an equal. He loved us unconditionally and would forgive easily if we said we were sorry. He did his best to make sure that each of us was happy, and he made it clear that he wanted the best for us. I loved him so much.
When I was in sixth grade my dad died in a car accident. My family and I were totally devastated. There was a big hole in our family. I was totally lost. Dad was the one I leaned on, the one I went to if I was having problems. I felt that he had no right to leave me. Instead of seeking help, I let the anger and hurt stay. I finally decided it was God’s fault. I stopped reading my scriptures and saying prayers. I only went to church because Mom wanted me to. I tried to stay far away from my Heavenly Father.
Then I had my first year of girls’ camp. Mom made me go, and I had fun. I liked meeting new friends, but I still didn’t really read my scriptures. On the last night we had a testimony meeting. I felt something I hadn’t in a long time—the Spirit. I admired the girls who got up and bore their testimonies, but I stayed seated because I thought I didn’t have one. All of a sudden I felt like I had to get up. It took a while, but I did get up. I opened my mouth wondering what to say, because I didn’t know that the Church was true or anything like that. So I started like the other girls did. I said I was glad for girls’ camp, which was true. Then I found myself saying that I knew Jesus died for me and that my Heavenly Father loved me and that the Church was true. And the most amazing thing was that I knew what I was saying was absolutely true.
I was filled with a remarkable peace that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Then I realized that all the things I loved about my dad were attributes of Christ and that my dad was trying to show me not just how much he loved me but how much Jesus and Heavenly Father loved me. I was so grateful for that. Because of this experience I can really say that this is the true Church, that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me more than I could ever imagine, and that Jesus loves me and died for me. I also know that I will see my dad again because of the Atonement and Resurrection.

Blanca Campo, a 17-year-old at the time, was one of the first piano students of Elder and Sister Heywood. She was unable to attend the regular weekday classes because she spent six days of the week in another town marketing products for the family business. So the Heywoods scheduled Sunday afternoon classes just for her.
Blanca purchased her own teclado so she could practice the hymns during her spare moments at market. After three weeks of practice, she was prepared to play in a Christmas sing-along with other new piano students.
Soon after, Blanca was called by her father, Bishop Rafael Campo, to serve as the Paguche Ward pianist. As he set her apart, Bishop Campo was impressed to call Blanca as a teacher of music for their ward. She still serves in this capacity, sharing her talents with her family and ward members.
When Blanca accompanied a stake youth choir later that summer, and she heard a recording of herself playing “Carry On,” she humbly smiled and exclaimed, “I can’t believe that I am the person playing that music!”

During the concerts, the thrill of singing the Berlioz Requiem and the a cappella concerts filled members of the choir with great emotion and joy. But for at least one choir member, Michael McOmber, singing in Israel had powerful personal meaning.
“I sang to Jews, Moslems, Christians, and to my great-grandfather’s brother, John Alexander Clark,” he says. Elder John Clark, who had been called to the Turkish mission in 1894, died of smallpox in 1895 at Haifa, in present-day Israel. He was one of two missionaries buried there who, it seemed, had died in vain. In modern times, however, these graves served as evidence of the Church’s prior presence in Israel and were helpful in its gaining approval for the Jerusalem Center to be built.
“We sang a moving number based on a text from Psalm 137,” [Ps. 137] says Michael, “‘By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept when we remembered thee, O Zion,’ I stood and wept. The unanticipated sense of irony gently overwhelmed me as I thought of my ancestor John: ‘How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?’ the Psalmist had said of captive Israel. Yet I felt hauntingly at home here, singing the Lord’s song to my ancestor. I had come to sing a requiem in memoriam: I shall never forget thee, O Jerusalem, nor John Alexander Clark.”

I remember one day when I was not willing to wake up early in the morning for our family prayer, I murmured to my sisters, “There is truly nothing else that we can do in this home, only pray, pray, pray.” My dad heard my comments. I remember his reaction as he lovingly but firmly taught me, “As long as you will be in this house, you will pray, pray, pray.”
My father’s words sounded in my ears daily. What do you think Sister Mutombo and I do with our children today? We pray, pray, and pray. This is our legacy.

Emily sat on the top of the park bleachers, her arms folded across her thin chest. “Dumb old cousins,” she muttered to herself. “Who cares about them, anyway?” She blinked her eyes and tried to ignore the burning in her throat that meant she was about to cry. She stood up and trudged down the bleachers and across the grass to where her mom was talking to Aunt Betty.
“Mom,” Emily whined, flopping down on the picnic table bench. “I don’t like this family reunion. It’s boring, and none of the other kids will let me play with them.”
“Of course they will,” said Aunt Betty in amazement.
“No they won’t,” replied Emily glumly. “They won’t even talk to me.”
“Then talk to someone else,” suggested Mom.
“Like who? Everyone else here is old. They aren’t any fun.”
“Well, thanks a lot,” said Aunt Betty.
“Oh,” Emily admitted, “you’re different. You tell neat stories.” She put her head in her hands.
“Betty,” Mom said, “do you remember some of the stories that Dad used to tell us when we were little?”
Aunt Betty smiled. “Of course I remember. Hey! That’s what you can do, Emily,” she said. “I bet if you asked the right people, you’d hear some great old stories.”
“Oh, no one would tell me anything,” Emily grumped, but she was starting to smile a tiny bit.
“True,” said Mom, “they might not. But I bet there are a lot of good stories hidden out there just waiting to be told.”
Suddenly, Emily sat up very straight. “Yeah—I could be like a detective searching for lost treasure,” she said, scrambling off the picnic bench. “I’ll start with Grandpa Charles because I already know he tells good stories!”
After a few minutes of searching through the chatting groups of relatives, Emily found Grandpa Charles sitting on the grass with his arm around Grandma A’Dell. “Hi!” said Emily. “I’m a detective. Would you help me?”
“I’ll try,” said Grandpa. “What are you looking for?”
“Stories,” Emily said, “about when you were little.”
Now Emily was laughing too. “Thanks!” she said. “Now I’m going to find some other stories.” She saw Aunt Ruth and ran across the lawn to her.
Emily the story detective kept searching. She heard stories about her mom, who was born in a house instead of a hospital, and about Tony the pony that Uncle Josh used to ride—when he could stay on! Tony liked to scrape Josh off by running under a tree branch. She found out about the time when Great-Grandad Ernest went to the store to get fresh brown bread. The baker wrapped the bread in paper so that Grandad could carry it home. On the way, he got so hungry that he poked a little hole in the crust and ate the soft insides. “Mother was sure surprised to have hollow bread,” Grandad said, chuckling.
Emily was having so much fun that she forgot about the other kids. Then, while Uncle Al was telling her about getting his truck stuck in the mud, Brian and three other cousins came over to listen. They were just in time to hear the end of the story: “So I left the truck, walked home, got my sister and our other truck and went back,” said Uncle Al. “And wouldn’t you know, I got the second truck stuck too! My dad finally had to come with the tractor to pull them both out.”
When the story was over, Brian looked at Emily and asked, “Why is everyone telling you stories?”
“Because I’m a story detective,” she said.
“Can we play?” Rachel asked wistfully.
Emily wanted to say no because they wouldn’t play with her before. But she felt too happy to be mean.
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go see Uncle Andy next.”

When Thomas Lillbäck was 11, his father was killed in a train accident. When he was 12, his mother died of cancer.

“It was very difficult,” the 18-year-old from the Vasterhaninge Ward, Stockholm Sweden Stake, explains. “My mother knew in advance she was going to die, so she made arrangements for me and my younger brother, Mathias. My parents were recent converts to the Church, but they knew some good people in the stake. They agreed to take care of us when she was gone.”

Thomas and Mathias have been part of the Simonsson family ever since.

“The Church has helped in building our relationships,” Thomas says. “We came into a gospel-centered home, and that made the transition easier. We had the same ideas. We had faith in the Lord, in the scriptures, and in prayer. We all knew that someday we’d see my mother and father again.”

The Simonssons live near the Stockholm Sweden Temple. Brother Simonsson is a temple worker, and Thomas often goes to the temple to do baptisms for the dead.

“When I’m in the temple, I give thanks for my present earthly family,” Thomas says. “I know they have blessed me a lot and I love them dearly. But I also think of my parents who are now in heaven. I know the Lord has promised that someday, if I live worthily, I can see them both again.”

Members of the São Paulo Brazil Stake felt inspired to collect sugar, oil, rice, and beans and donate the food to two charities. Then they trained representatives from the charities in the basics of food storage. Members also volunteered to present education, finance, and employment training to stake and community members to help them develop the skills necessary to compete for available jobs.
“The community we invited was delighted with the work of the Church. Many did not know us, but they went away with good feelings,” said stake member Kátia Ribeiro. “Among the members, there was a spirit of unity and service, and among those who were served, there was a spirit of deep gratitude.”

Doug had always loved sports. Maybe it was because they almost all required running, and running was his favorite activity. As a child he ran everywhere. If you saw someone walking you knew you weren’t looking at Douglas Padilla. “I didn’t like to just wait around. Why walk if you can get there faster by running?” And of course there were always races for an aspiring young runner—impromptu school ground and back lot challenges as well as the prestigious 50 yarders sponsored by the grade school. There was only one problem. “I was always getting beat. In fact, the girls all beat me.”
This was a great boon for equality, but it wasn’t a real ego booster, especially for a boy who already carried the burden of being the smallest boy in his class. But rather than throwing away his sneakers and giving up, Doug just kept running.
He is still running today. Seven times an All-American during his track career at BYU, he now runs for the Athletics West Track Club. He has been ranked number one in the world in the indoor 3,000 and 5,000 meters, and fifth in the world in the 5,000 meters outdoor. He has enjoyed wins in many important national and international competitions, including the 1983 World Championships in Helsinki, Finland. He was the top American qualifier for the 5,000 meters in the 1984 Olympic Games in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, he had health problems at the games and finished a disappointing seventh. Like the seasoned competitor he is though, he put it behind him as “just another race” and is back working his way to the top. He enjoyed a spectacular indoor season this past winter, winning five of the seven races he entered. He was the fastest American in the 3,000 meters, the 5,000 meters, the two mile, and the three mile.
Doug’s rise from neighborhood “also ran” to world-class runner didn’t happen overnight, of course. It took some fifth quarter effort along the way. Even when he was still the slowest kid around, Doug always ran in every race he could. Finally, in junior high school he got on the track team.
At last, all the running and fifth-quarter determination started paying off. Doug’s speed and endurance began to soar. His time in the two mile improved from 11:50 his freshman year to 9:17 his senior year, when he went undefeated in cross-country and won the league meet. He went all the way to state in the two mile, finishing 13th with a personal record of 9:15.4.
After high school, Doug was not deluged with scholarship offers. By college standards, he was still a very average runner. He did finally receive an offer from a junior college near his home, however. At the end of the first year there he surprised everyone, including himself, by running a 4:10.7 and winning the mile at the Northern California Championships. At this point, Doug decided to go to BYU. He didn’t have a scholarship or even an invitation, but he went anyway. When you’ve spent a whole year in the fifth quarter, you’re game for about anything. That fall he went out for cross-country and finished as the eighth man on the team.
Soon after the end of the cross-country season, Doug was called to serve a mission in El Salvador. His track career was a little shaky at best, and he had no particular reason to think that a two-year absence would improve it much, but his desire to follow the counsel of the General Authorities was strong. As he served the people of El Salvador through his calling, he began to change in many ways. He began to have a different perspective on sports and life in general.
“When you look at a high school athlete, he grows up with sports. He eats it and drinks it. That’s his life—everything. As you grow up a little more, you find out there’s a little more to life, and then you go on a mission and find out you don’t have to run and compete to be successful and to feel important as a person. Then your emphasis changes, and running isn’t necessary anymore. Many times sports are a means by which individuals can gain self-confidence and self-esteem. Many people go through an identity crisis. How important are they as an individual? As you go on a mission you realize that the Lord loves you and cares about you and is concerned with your being a good person regardless of how you are athletically. You come to realize that your relationship with people, school, your church callings, a number of things—all are important, not just athletics. You become a little more aware of life.
“I was always very small in high school and had little self-confidence, but now my confidence is in the Lord.”
The two years in El Salvador proved to be a blessing athletically. Even though Doug had little opportunity to run in the mission field, his body had a chance to mature. He returned stronger and faster than when he left. He was the 23rd American finisher in the NCAA cross-country championships that year, earning all-American honors. He was also part of a distance medley team that took second in the nation.
His junior year brought only moderate success. In the outdoor season he finished sixth in the nationals in the 5,000-meter run.
In his senior year he finished 15th in the cross-country nationals. Then came the golden indoor season that was to vault him into the aristocracy of the running world. He somehow managed to talk his way into the Sunkist Invitational meet, even though his times really didn’t qualify him for that level of competition. There he went head to head in the two mile with the great Suleiman Nyambui, the University of Texas at El Paso star. Doug had never beaten Nyambui, the silver medalist in the 500 meters at the Moscow Olympics, although as members of the same college athletic conference, the two had competed many times. This time Doug stayed right behind Nyambui throughout the race.
“When Suleiman moved out to take the lead, I stepped right out behind him. I stayed right on his tail. I decided that what I needed to do was surprise him when I went around him. It’s twenty-two laps on the indoor track for two miles. So I said, ‘with two laps to go, I’ll make my move.’ So that’s what I did. I made it right at the top of the turn. I cut a little close, and I just brushed him with my arm, and I think that kind of surprised him. I brushed by him on the outside just as he looked to the inside to see where everybody was. I think he was kind of startled, and by the time he recovered I had six or seven yards on him. And then I just ran like crazy. He never caught me. Indoors the race is often won by the man who makes the first move and doesn’t die. The crowd was amazed that Suleiman could be beaten, especially by me.”
This was a victory that any athlete could treasure for life, even if it was followed by no others, but in this case both Doug and most knowledgeable track people sensed that it marked a great turning point in his career, the beginning of something big, a rite of passage from just another good college runner to something different. Doug was edging into that elite circle of athletes who can be described as “world-class.”
In the Western Athletic Conference indoor track meet, Doug once again shocked everyone by beating Suleiman. Some had assumed that the first victory was a fluke—a very impressive fluke notwithstanding.
This set the stage for the indoor nationals. “I knew that Suleiman would be expecting me this time, and that I would have to move earlier than I had before. So I made a move with five laps to go, almost a half mile. That was quite a race. It was rough. He ran in lane two for almost the last five full laps. He tried to pass me repeatedly. I won by four-hundredths of a second.” Less than an hour later, Doug had to run the 5,000 meters. Not knowing how much he had left, he dropped to the back of the pack. With two and a half laps to go, he made his move, swinging wide around a group in front of him. He moved into third place with a lap to go, took second on the backstretch, and kicked hard in a grim charge to overtake Suleiman. He couldn’t quite catch him, finishing second.
In the outdoor nationals that spring, he finished fourth in both the 1,500 and 5,000 meters. His college career was ended, but he was still getting faster and stronger all the time. It was time again for the fifth quarter.
Even though there are many rewards in competitive running, it is not exactly what the average person would describe as fun. It hurts. It hurts a lot. Somewhere in the course of the race all the body’s needs and desires become reduced to one—to stop. “It’s a matter of losing your concentration. You slow down, and all of a sudden you look up and realize they have ten yards on you. You lose contact with what’s going on and they break you.” The successful runner must resist this, forcing his body to do his mind’s will.
“You have to decide beforehand what you’re going to do in a race, and then you go out and you do it. With my style of running I need to decide that I’m going to stay with certain runners no matter what until I start my kick at the end. Then it’s a matter of staying with that decision regardless of how I feel. Once you’ve gone through about half the race at a good pace, you lose a little bit of the awareness of how you feel. You just learn to concentrate more on staying with an individual. You put all your energies into it, and you mask out everything else. I used to wonder how bad I wanted to win, if I wanted success enough to be willing to hurt for it. It’s a matter of determining if it’s really worth it to you or not.”
If a runner wants to know the limits of his own potential, there is a price to pay. “If you go by how you feel, you’re always going to decide you don’t have enough, and so you’ll fall back. And if you push it, there’s always more than you think. And even if there isn’t, you’ll at least know where you stand.”
Does the gospel help Doug in his running? “It has given me confidence in myself. My mission had a lot to do with that. Realizing that I could go out and do something, that I could seek the Lord’s help in accomplishing something, helped me believe in my individual worth as a person, that I was important.”
How important is the gospel in his life? “There isn’t anything more important in my life than the gospel. It is much more important than running. There isn’t any comparison. If running is the most important thing in your life and you get injured or become too old to compete, then you are left with nothing. When I was a teenager I didn’t have this kind of a testimony or perspective. I was still learning. The Church was important, but I didn’t realize how important. My mission taught me that I can do whatever the Lord wants me to do—anything.”
Where does running fit into Doug’s vision of the gospel? “The Lord wants us to develop the talent that we have, and it’s a responsibility each person has, so in that sense, it’s something that I need to do. But I’ve always felt that it’s something the Lord wants me to do also. If I didn’t have the feeling that he wanted me to run, I probably wouldn’t be running now, just because in the years after I got back from my mission, I didn’t handle the pressure very well. It was a lot to go through, especially when you’re not doing that well, and there are other things more important to me in my life. Now it would be hard to imagine not running. But there’s an awful lot of pressure before a race. I’m extremely nervous. I have to eat five or six hours before I run or I will throw up. It’s just very unpleasant. Just imagine yourself standing up to talk in general conference, and you’ll have some idea. If I didn’t feel the Lord had some purpose for me in this I wouldn’t be doing it.”
Doug gained a great strength in his life on July 14, 1983, when he married Lynette Nielson of Golden, Colorado, in the Salt Lake Temple. “Marriage has been good to me,” he says. “I’ve got a great wife. She gives me a clearer perspective on running and on life.”
When will Doug stop running? “When the Lord wants me to stop.”
How will he know when that happens? “I just won’t have any desire to run anymore.”
That time isn’t in sight right now. The short, skinny kid who lost to the girls in grade school, who had to wait for the fifth quarter to play basketball, who ran just because he loved running, has grown up into one of the finest distance runners on the planet Earth. He knows now that if you work and wait long enough, giving it everything you have, your fifth quarter will come, because the fifth quarter is only for those with the courage to endure to the end.

By the time they arrived at the home of Sister Beverly Gillis, a Reading Pennsylvania Stake youth leader, they were ready for movement. They were ready for sounds louder than lapping water. They were ready to dance!
Sister Gillis’s yard had been lit by white lights strung through the trees. A few chairs had been set up around the edges of the deck that would serve as the dance floor. Then the music started. In many ways it was a typical youth conference dance. The music was too loud for the leaders, and not loud enough for the youth.
But then something unusual started happening. The chairs around the edges of the dance area were empty. There were no wallflowers. Instead of pairing up, the teens were dancing in circles with five or ten other friends. Everyone was drawn in. The gap that must be crossed when asking someone to dance was nonexistent. No one was allowed to sit out unless they absolutely insisted that they needed a break. At this dance, youth from eastern Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland were united. There was only one “in” group, and everyone belonged.